Firsts
by Lady Eleanor Boleyn
Summary: Motherhood is full of firsts. This oneshot collection will follow Shelagh Turner and her daughter through a few of them.
1. Names

The shadow darkening her office door caught Sister Julienne's attention and she glanced up.

"Shelagh," she greeted the younger woman, rising with her hands outstretched, "How are you? Can I help?"

"Yes please, Reverend Mother," Shelagh was as softly-spoken as ever, but the fervour in her voice and her use of the title that only the other Sisters called Sister Julienne – the title she had stopped using when she laid aside her vows – told the older woman that something was wrong.

"What is it?" she asked, guiding Shelagh to a chair, "Is it your daughter? Is she ill? Not feeding well?"

"No, no, nothing like that... It's just...," Shelagh trailed off and looked down at her hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap. So tightly her knuckles went white.

Sister Julienne placed a hand on hers, "You know, child, talking about what concerns you is usually a healthy way to start dealing with it."

"There's just so much to do," Shelagh confessed, the words suddenly flooding out of her as though a dam had been broken, "With how quick the adoption was, we've barely anything ready. Not a Moses basket, not sterilised bottles, not terry cloths. Without the ones the agency gave us to see us through a day or two, I don't know what we'd do. The poor wee thing doesn't even have a name yet!"

By the time she had finished, she was gasping. Sister Julienne stroked her hand, "The Good Lord will see you through, Shelagh. He has a way of making His plan known in the most marvellous of ways. You know that. So trust in Him and do not lean on your own understanding. He will make your paths straight."

Shelagh nodded, blushing. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Taking on a child that is not your own is a huge responsibility. It's only natural you should be feeling a little overwhelmed. But let's take things one step at a time. For instance, perhaps you could start by telling me what ideas you and Patrick have had for names?"

"Well that's the thing. He wants to name her something Celtic after me and I want to name her for his family. We can't even agree on that."

"Never mind. Close your eyes."

A little surprised, Shelagh did as she was told.

"Picture your daughter's face. What's the first thing that comes into your mind?"

"A rose. An early, just budding rose. Her skin has that sort of a colour to it."

"Have you and Patrick discussed Rose as a name?"

"It seems too ordinary...although...there is the Celtic name Roisin. It means 'Rose', but it's just that little bit different. That little bit more special. And it would please Patrick. He wants a Celtic name."

"There you have it then. Roisin. And what comes into your mind second when you think of your daughter?"

"How lucky I am to have her. She's a gift from God, I just know she is."

"A gift you deserve to be blessed with, Shelagh. A gift which will change your life forever. Just as the gift of roses and fruits Theophilius received from Heaven changed his."

Sister Julienne's voice was soft as she guided the younger woman through the thought process. She didn't have long to wait before the penny dropped.

"Theophilius was sent those heavenly fruits from St Dorothy. Dorothy. That's Patrick's mother's name."

"Then it seems to me that everything has fallen into place. The Good Lord has a way of making that happen," Sister Julienne smiled, withdrawing her hand from Shelagh's as the younger woman looked up, suddenly relaxed and beaming.

"Yes, Reverend Mother, He does," she replied, "He has answered my prayers for a child. In His mercy and goodness, He has blessed me with a daughter. With Roisin Dorothy Turner."


	2. Smile

Shelagh had just finished changing Roisin and was running her hand gently over her daughter's stomach, preparing to pick her up and carry her back into the kitchen where she could watch her while she got on with Timothy's tea, when the little girl suddenly grimaced, her face twisting unpleasantly.

Her face was twisting as it often did when she was about to start crying and Shelagh tensed. Her daughter wasn't an unholy terror, but her crying fits were no walk in the park for all that. They still sent stabs of guilt and anxiety through her very heart, especially when there seemed to be no reason for them.

"What's wrong, _Mo muirnín?"_ she whispered, scooping Roisin up.

"It's all right, Mummy's here. Mummy's here."

But the soft endearments did nothing to calm her baby, though they did cut off her wails before they could begin. Roisin continued to squirm in distress.

Shelagh put her back down to examine her more closely, and was rewarded with the sight of the little legs being pulled up repeatedly as though in a reflex.

Comprehension sparked.

"Ah. Mummy didn't burp you properly, did she not? Not to worry though, we'll soon have that sorted."

Putting one hand on her daughter's belly and the other on her right ankle, she hoisted her leg up and began to circle it expertly in the air. How many times had she done this with the babies in the clinic, some of whom were far more vocal about their discomfort than her little angel was? Gas was fine. Gas she could handle.

Having done the right leg, she did the left and then alternated several times before her daughter's mouth finally opened and she gave a loud belch, relaxing instantly.

Shelagh laughed and patted her daughter's cheek, "That's better. Better out than in, as Nurse Noakes would say. Come on, let's get your brother's tea."

She picked her daughter up again, her heart leaping when her daughter's lips suddenly twitched back upwards. That wasn't gas. It couldn't be, not after that huge belch just moments earlier. That was a smile. That was her first smile!

"Oh, well done, wee one! Well done! Mummy's so proud of you. So proud!"


End file.
